


Christmas Aboard the Enterprise

by LieutenantLiv



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Christmas, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 11:51:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LieutenantLiv/pseuds/LieutenantLiv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock is fascinated by the Christmas atmosphere. Kirk explains that the best Christmases are spent with the ones you truly love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Aboard the Enterprise

Spock closed his eyes in pure embarrassment.

That is, if Vulcans ever felt embarrassment. 

Unfortunately for Spock, he was also half human.

“Come on, Spock, have a sense of humour!”

“You look most fetching, Meezter Spock!”

“Oh, you look adorable!”

Everyone on the bridge had surrounded Spock. And had somehow forced a Santa’s hat onto him. Uhura was giggling uncontrollably, while Chekov was trying to bop the bobble at the end of the hat like a cat. Spock didn’t even argue. He’d learned not to. He just closed his eyes and pouted.

“Oh, leave the poor man alone. Back to your stations, all of you.” Kirk swaggered into the room, shooing them away from Spock, though he did have a small grin on his face. Much to Spock’s gratitude, they scurried back to their posts. Kirk gave Bones a reprimanding look. “Doctor McCoy, what are you doing here on the bridge?”

Bones looked surprised. “Well, Jim, I had to come and see; Spock, wearing a festive hat? I had to witness the moment in history myself.”

Spock gave his most unimpressed stare, wiping Bones’ silly grin off his face. He picked the hat off from his head with his thumb and forefinger- as if it were dirty- and dropped it into Bones’ hands. Without a word, he went back to his station.

Bones raised his eyebrows. Kirk smiled warmly at his friends’ banter, his gaze following Spock as he wondered off to his post. He frowned. “McCoy?”

“Yes, Jim.”

“Do you think Spock’s mother celebrated Christmas while he was a child? Do you think… he understands?”

“Understand? Understand the magic, the palpable anticipation, the joys, the excitement?” Bones rambled dramatically. He snorted. “No, I don’t suppose he does.”

Kirk didn’t reply. He only stood in thought for a moment, before returning to his seat. Spock naturally wandered over to his side- where he seemed to fit perfectly- and they talked among themselves. 

Now, Bones wasn’t stupid. Spock may have derided him for being a wildly emotionally moron a few times… or, a very many number of times… but he wasn’t stupid. And he definitely wasn’t unobservant.

Kirk and Spock had been friends for some time, now. It hadn’t always been that way, of course. But now they were as close as ever, best friends, Bones would guess. As they say, opposites attract. 

He would have estimated that their relationship was like one between brothers. But Bones felt that that… wasn’t quite right. There was something different. The only times McCoy had ever seen Spock smile- any Vulcan smile- was around Jim. Admittedly it was only a small smirk. But Bones noticed that gradually, over the years, Spock’s defences were dropping. His emotionless façade easing. His human side showing.

And if that wasn’t love, Bones didn’t know what else it could be.

 

 

Generally, the Enterprise didn’t celebrate Christmas. It had never really been considered before, since Starfleet was comprised of being of many different species and cultures; and obviously, Christmas wasn’t celebrated by everyone. And so holidays were generally celebrated individually, among certain friends. But one year, the year 3038.7, the Enterprise had reached a unanimous decision to celebrate Christmas. 

With a staff party.

Now, this was a dangerous decision, and everyone knew it. Staff parties were notoriously disastrous, ugly, and filled with morning after regret. But it had been 5 years since they had spent any good length of time on their home planets or been really relaxed, let alone have a proper party. And so it was decided. The Enterprise was going to party until the sun came up. Or, until they reached another sun in another galaxy.

Chekov was singing Christmas carols to himself in Russian- he actually had a rather good voice, and the lyrics sounded almost more nostalgic in Russian. He trilled and hummed as he draped red and green decorations around the common room, where the party would take place. 

Sulu came into the room with arms full of tinsel. 

“Vat ees that?” Chekov said is distaste. “I hope you’re not planning on hanging that up.”

Sulu looked affronted. “Why not? It’s tinsel, you have to have tinsel at Christmas!”

Chekov tutted and shook his head ferociously, picking up the tinsel and examining it gingerly. “But… eet ees so shiny, and, tacky, and-”

Bones was in another corner of the room, drenching it in tinsel. In comparison to Chekov’s work- which had more of a 19th century, traditional feel- it was messy. Rather like a child’s art, drenched in glitter and glue. He turned to Chekov with a frown. “You got anything against tinsel, ensign?”

Chekov knew better than to argue with a superior. Even if his eye for interior décor was far better. “No, sir, nothing at all. Very… festive.”

“That’s right, it is,” Bones grumbled, sticking more tinsel to the wall. 

At that moment, Kirk and Spock arrived to see how the developments were going.

“Well, the room’s looking… sufficiently… sparkly, men,” Kirk said, lost for words.

“Yes. I know, sir,” Chekov sulked. He still didn’t like the tinsel. And to be fair, Sulu and Bones had filled the room with so much of the stuff it was almost blinding.

“Yes….” Kirk replied. He looked at Bones, who was grinning childishly as he searched for another piece of tinsel. There was none left. Chekov stood proudly in his tiny section, which he had deemed to be the only area of the room which could not be taken over by the invading sparkles. Ever the perceptive captain, Krik suggested, “Say, Chekov, why don’t you give these two a lesson in how to do more, classy Christmas decorations?”

“Whaattt?” Bones complained. “What’s wrong with what we’ve done?”

“Nothing, nothing Bones,” Kirk consoled, like he was talking to a child. Spock, meanwhile, was standing patiently behind him, eyebrow raised in judgement. “I just think Chekov has the right idea for the party. These are my orders; listen to what Chekov says. Go on.”

Sulu didn’t seem too disappointed. Bones, however, grumbled for the next three hours.

Kirk and Spock watched them as they set to work again. 

“Captain.”

“Yes, Spock.”

“For what reason are we holding this party, again?”

“Well, it’s Christmas. And it’s a tradition, not only on Earth but on many human based planets. The whole Enterprise voted for it.”

“Hmmm.”

Kirk turned to his faithful commanding officer with a smile. “’Hmmm’?” He prompted.

“Yes, captain.”

“Yes, what I mean is, do you have a problem with it?”

Spock sighed, watching Bones and Chekov bicker. “Captain, you know as well as I how such events transpire among Star Fleet members. It has never ended well.”

“Oh, oh, well, that’s not true,” Kirk argued, though he knew what Spock was talking about. “We’re docked at a Star Fleet base and we’re technically off duty- besides, and we’re not at the academy anymore, people won’t be as reckless as when we were young students. And I’ll all make sure that Scotty doesn’t pull out his secret stash of whisky this time.”

“Last time you joined him in drinking his ‘secret stash of whisky’,” Spock added.

Kirk hesitated. “Well, I only had a glass or two-”

“I had to carry you to your quarters-”

“Yes, OK, well, that’s behind us now, isn’t it,” Kirk said defensively. “It’ll be fine, Spock.”

“Hmmmm.”

Kirk laughed. “Besides, I won’t be drinking anything tonight. As the captain, I’m don’t think I want the entire starship seeing me drunk.” 

“Excuse me, sorry Captain, Officer.” An enormous Christmas tree filled the doorway, and Kirk and Spock stepped aside to let it through. Five people were carrying it, Uhura among them. She stopped as soon as she saw the decorations.

“What on Earth- who threw all this tinsel around, it won’t do. No way.”

“I’ve been trying to tell him that!” Chekov cried, gesticulating to an increasingly red Bones. “Under the captain’s orders, Doctor McCoy, you are to follow my instructions on the decorations!”

“But tinsel is festive! It’s fun! You’re such a killjoy-”

Kirk looked at the top members of his crew in despair. 

“So far, captain, the event does not seem to be entirely successful.”

“It’ll improve. And don’t say ‘hmmmm’!” he said, pointing an accusational finger.

Spock turned to him with his iconic raised eyebrow and slight pout, and replied, “Hmmm,” before turning to leave the room. Kirk ordinarily would have laughed and gone on his way, but something was telling him that there was something on Spock’s mind. After all these years, he could tell. Kirk followed him, catching up to his side as they walked down the corridor.

“Spock,” he began in a business-like voice.

“Yes, captain.”

“May I ask- is there any particular reason why you dislike Christmas so much?”

“I do not dislike Christmas, captain. I just do not understand the excitement it brings, especially for someone who is not religious, such as yourself. I find it… material.”

Kirk nodded. “Yes. Yes, I suppose it is material. It isn’t the most humble of holidays. And for a Vulcan… I suppose the anticipation, the… joy, and nostalgia might be difficult to understand.”

Spock didn’t reply. He only walked in thoughtful silence, hands behind his back. Kirk knew for certain now that there was something on his mind. He stopped at the doors of his quarters. “So, Mr Spock, I’ll see you later tonight,” he said, stepping inside.

“Captain?”

Kirk looked back. “Yes, Spock?” Spock didn’t reply. He wanted to talk, but obviously that wasn’t going to happen unless Kirk pushed and prodded him into doing so. He stepped aside, for Spock to come in. He hesitated, before stepping into the room. The doors shut behind them.

“Everything alright, Spock?” 

“Yes, captain.”

“Anything on your mind?”

Spock stood still, hands behind his back, staring at the wall, ever the devoted soldier. He didn’t reply.

Kirk raised his eyebrows and nodded. He saw that this would be a long conversation. He sat down, and poured himself a drink. “I don’t suppose you’d like a drink, Spock?”

“No, thank you.”

Kirk nodded. This would be a long conversation. But… any time with his best friend was time well spent. He somehow felt a lot more at ease with Spock around; ironic, considering how stoic and severe he was. But that was the Spock he knew and-

“Captain,” Spock said quietly, interrupting Kirk’s thoughts. He realised he’d been looking at Spock the whole time he’d been waiting for him to talk. He sniffed awkwardly and looked down at his drink. 

“Yes, Spock,” he replied equally quietly.

“I may not appear to… care,” he began, “but I am half human. And my mother did introduce me to the traditions of Christmas. I admit that I never took to them- but I do care about my human heritage. I would like to understand it more. I would like to see why it is that you care so much about the holiday.” He paused. “You’re my friend, Jim- I care about the things which you enjoy. So- captain-” his voice lowered, becoming more business-like again, “I would appreciate learning such traditions- from you.”

Kirk was still looking into his glass, swirling it around gently in his hand. He smiled warmly, and stood up slowly. He paced the room slowly. “Of course, Spock. Was there… anything in particular which you would like to understand, learn?”

Spock had been standing in the same position, staring at one point in the wall, stiff lipped for a few minutes- but now he shuffled awkwardly, tilting his head from side to side. “Doctor McCoy…” Kirk rolled his eyes. Of course Bones had a say on the matter, of course Bones had made him feel this uncomfortable. “Doctor McCoy mentioned that I would never understand it’s unique joy, or sentimentality,” he added with a judgmental raised eyebrow. 

Kirk stopped mid pace, looking back round to Spock. It didn’t look he was going to expand on the subject. Kirk smiled. He looked down at his feet. “The truth is, Spock, none of the Christmas traditions matter. You can go without the tinsel and the trees and the dinners and the parties, or even being with your family. None of those things are the most important things.”

Spock frowned. “Doctor McCoy assured me that part of the nostalgia derived from spending Christmas with family.”

Kirk nodded slowly. “Yes… it depends entirely on who you define as family.” Kirk paused, feeling that he would have to spell it out for Spock. “The truth is, Spock- Christmas aboard the Enterprise, so far, has been the best Christmas so far. Because this ship, and it’s crew, are my family. The essence of Christmas, the joy that Doctor McCoy was talking about- that comes from being with the people you love.”

Spock shuffled awkwardly, staring at the wall. Kirk chuckled. 

“That’s all you really need to know about Christmas.”

Spock hesitated. “I think I understand.” 

Kirk smiled, gazing at the floor again. “Although, it is a shame that you never experienced Christmas on Earth. The atmosphere is one that is difficult to emulate anywhere else.” He looked up for a moment. Spock frowning at his shoes, in thought. He wondered over towards him, and stopped in front of him.

Spock looked up. “Captain?”

Kirk looked at him with a completely open, relaxed gaze. It was one Spock rarely ever saw, but when he did, he knew it meant Jim was happy. He looked down at him, without realising, returning an equally relaxed gaze. Kirk took his hand. 

“Captain-”

“Relax, Spock,” Kirk chuckled, raising Spock’s hand to his temple. “Let me show you.”

Spock hesitated, before slowly closing his eyes and touching his temple. 

Immediately he saw a flurry of snow. New York city. Christmas lights and banners everywhere; the sky was dark, but the snow was illuminated as it fell. He could feel the cold, like he was there. He was looking up from a lower height than usual- a young child’s height, around the age of 4 or 5. It must have been late, around 10pm- late for his age, he felt exhilarated for even being outside at this time- but the shops were still open, lights on everywhere, people milling about and around him. They were so much taller, pushing him about as they walked past him- but he didn’t notice. He had his face pushed up against a window. 

The shop window misted up with his warm breath in the below freezing temperatures, but he wiped it out of the way. In the display, there was a fire blazing, and mannequins representing a family sitting around it. The fire was so warm. He could feel it through the glass. He’d been gazing into it for at least ten minutes now, looking at the shapes, the colours, the dancing flicks of flames in wonder, all the time his heart bubbling in excitement. Everything was so warm. And hopeful.

“Jim? Jim! Oh Jim!” 

He didn’t turn from the window pane. The fire was too pretty.

“Jim! Oh, honey, why do you always wonder off?”

“He’s a curious kid, that one.”

“Oh, George, what are we going to do with him, he just won’t stop disappearing! In the middle of New York city!”

“He’s ok, isn’t he, hey champ?” He felt the presence of his father bend down beside him. “What you lookin’ at, kid?”

“The fire,” he mumbled against the window-pane. He tapped against the glass. “It looks like it’s dancing!”

“Sure does,” George replied, wrapping his arm around him. “We should get us one of these at home.”

“Such a thoughtful child,” Winona mused.

Kirk tore himself away from the sight of the fire, and looked up at his father’s lit up face. “Daddy, what am I getting for Christmas?”

George laughed. “I dunno, Jim! It’s a surprise from Santa, and he hasn’t told me.”

He frowned, his face scrunching up. “Santa isn’t real. I know you and mommy are the ones who give the presents.”

The parents looked at each other at first in surprise, then started laughing. “You’re a lot cleverer than we give you credit for, champ. Come on.” He took his father’s warm hand, and walked into the crowd.

The scene changed; it flitted and warped into what seemed to be a living room. It was lit up by a real, original fire place. He was gazing into it, avoiding the books piled in front of him. He didn’t want to work on Christmas eve.

“Jim,” Winona consoled. She frowned, looking down at him from her chair. He continued to look into the fire. “Jim, I’m sorry your father isn’t here. I’m sorry he’s busy at Starfleet. But that won’t stop us from enjoying a good Christmas.”

Jim looked down at his books. It was his training for Starfleet- even though he couldn’t apply for another five years. “I know. Sorry mom.” He looked up at her with his usual warm smile. “It will be a good Christmas. You wanted help with the potatoes, right?”

His mother looked back with a similar smile. “Sure. Let’s go peel some potatoes,” she said in a mock enthused voice. “So… tell me more about this Christine, girl…”

“Uhh… mom, we broke up.”

Winona looked at him in shock. “Already? Jim, really. You are a heartbreaker, aren’t you?”

He shrugged awkwardly, before he heard the door open. His heart froze. He heard the wet, snowy footsteps of someone very familiar. He ran into the hall, to find his father standing in the doorway, shaking snow off his hat. 

“Hey champ.”

“Dad!”

And then the scene changed again, but more suddenly now. It was the enterprise. A young looking Vulcan stood at one end of the bridge. 

“Who is that pointy eared bastard, anyway?” grumbled an ever disdainful Doctor McCoy.

He shrugged, patting Bones on the back, and replied with a casual, “Dunno.”

The scene changed again. Their first mission together with Kirk as captain, on a baron planet called Omicron 0. Spock, standing by his side, disagreed with every single order he gave to the crew. He was beginning to loose his patience with this guy.

Another memory. Their first victory in a Klingon battle. They shared a small, brief smile from across the dishevelled, torn apart bridge. 

The memories were flicking through quickly now. The first time he taught him the Vulcan salute, and the patience he showed when he just couldn’t get it right.

When he was in the sick bay, having almost died from a close encounter with a Klingon, and Spock stayed by his side.

When Spock had been slipped some alcohol in his drink by an unsuspecting, innocent Scotty- and Spock had poured his overflowing heart out to him over an empty pint glass.

When Edith Keller died, Spock held him, to stop him from falling.

Now they weren’t even full memories. Just images. Images of them, flicking through his mind like the pages of a book, until it stopped on another scene; but it wasn’t a memory. He was thinking of the future; thinking of the party. Thinking of the two of them sharing a weary glance as they watched their fellow crew grow gradually more inebriated. He thought of how he would feel, as he looked at him. Because sharing glances simply wasn’t enough anymore.

Spock’s eyes snapped open, and gasped, like he was emerging from water. He looked back at Kirk, who’s eyes were still closed. Spock opened his mouth to speak, but had nothing to say. Instead, he left his hand to caress Jim’s face.

After a minute or two, Jim looked up. He saw Spock looking back at him; his eyes had never spoken so loudly before. There was so much in there to read, so much that Spock must have been struggling to feel that he let out a low chuckle. He noticed a single tear rolling down his cheek, and stroked it dry.

Then, of course, the moment was destroyed- by who other than-

“It’s me, Bones- Jim, you in there?”

Spock stepped away instantly, wiping his face and pacing towards Jim’s desk, where he stood diligently, as if they had been discussing business. Kirk sighed, and closed his eyes, composing himself.

“Yes, come in.”

The doors opened and Bones waltzed in. “Sorry to interrupt, but- am I interrupting something?” He looked from Kirk to the back of Spock’s head in alarm.

“No, Doctor McCoy, we were just on our way. Weren’t we, Captain.”

Kirk hesitated, opened his mouth to speak, then decided to merely nod. He sighed. “Yes. We’re just on our way.”

“Oh. Well, you know, there’s no pressing matter,” Bones added hastily, “We’re only arguing about the decorations.”

Kirk laughed. “Well, we’ll come with you nonetheless.”

Bones nodded, the frustration at Chekov he’d walked into the room with completely gone; he knew he’d just walked into something personal. He pursed his lips awkwardly and led the way. Kirk turned to look at Spock before he followed him. He’d returned to his usual composed façade. 

As if nothing had happened at all.

 

 

Jim had always been good at acting. He could wriggle his way out of any trouble with a smile, he could laugh and joke in the most uncomfortable situations possible, he could win someone over with just a few words. He could hide when he was angry, or sad.

But tonight he was really struggling.

So much had come to light within a matter of minutes- how long had it lasted?- that memories, snippets of the moment flooded his mind without warning, sporadically. Christmas music of some sort played in the background. He was laughing at something Scotty had said, but he had no idea what anyone was talking about. He wasn’t listening. 

All he could hear was Spock’s uncertain voice, all he could see was his panicked, wretched, expression when he realised what he’d seen. What Jim had shown him.

What did that mean? He was emotionally overwhelmed, for sure. But with what? Happiness? Distress? Pity? Sadness? All of the above? 

Jim cleared his throat and rubbed his chin nervously as everyone chattered around them. He could see him in the corner of his eye. Spock. Standing in the corner. Watching him.

Spock may have been half Vulcan but he was also half human. Jim knew better than anyone that Vulcans did in fact feel- more so than humans, in fact, contrary to common believe. Vulcan’s had a vast river of emotion running through them; but that just meant they needed a bigger dam to hold it all back.

And for Spock, who was half human too- perhaps he couldn’t build a dam high enough.

But that didn’t mean that Spock felt the way he did about him. Jim had absolutely no way of knowing. And even if he did, would he really show it? Would he allow himself to succumb to such emotion? Any emotion at all?

These thoughts had only just occurred to him now. The reality of how much he truly cared for Spock was only now becoming clear. The nature of his feelings for him, how much he-

“Jim, are you alright?”

Somehow, without him noticing, the company had dissipated and now it was only Bones, standing opposite him with a look of disdained worry. For Bones, every look he gave looked somehow disdainful. He’d had enough to drink that he’d allowed Sulu to drape a piece of tinsel round his neck like a feather boa, but he wasn’t drunk. He was just in a happy festive mood.

Jim realised he’d been staring at the Christmas lights, which had hypnotically been flashing different colours. He blinked and looked down at his full glass of champagne.

“I’m fine Bones. Just thinking.”

“God. Whenever you do that something terrible’s bound to happen.” 

He laughed emptily, but his insides were a bundle of nerves. He felt like a teenage boy again. “Not you’re finest insult, Bones.”

Bones’ left eyebrow raised, and the left side of his mouth mimicked it, resulting in a crooked smile. “That’s because I’m not trying to insult you, man-” Jim snorted. Bones never gave up the chance to insult someone. Anyone- “I’ve just never seen you look so tangled in your own thoughts, you look like you’re trying to solve some ungoldly equation in you’re head, one that only that pointed eared devil could do.”

Jim cleared his throat again at the mention of Spock. It wasn’t direct but it was a mention, and he wasn’t sure he could talk about him at all right now.

“I’m fine, Bones. It’s… nothing important.”

“Now, I can tell that’s not true. You usually love these social occasions, whatever’s on your mind must be weighing on you if you can’t even finish one glass of wine.” Jim twitched a brief smile in reply. “You might be one of the cleverest in the room, Jim, but whatever it is that you’re thinkin’ about, let it be- no matter how much you wrestle with it beforehand, you’re better in the spur of the moment.”

Jim had been playing with the stalk of his wine glass, but he looked up with Bone’s final comment. He felt a nauseating pang in his chest. Did Bones know? “You’re right,” he smiled. He might have been off his game, but he could still pull off pretending he was OK. “As ever Bones, you’re advice is invaluable.”

“Tch. Like anyone listens to me on this ship. No one cares what a humble country doctor has to say,” Bones grumbled, back to his usual self. Seeing him as sympathetic as he was before made Jim suspicious, and frankly a little nervous. “Now, Doctor’s orders, go to your quarters. You look terrible.”

“Why thank you Bones, you look dashing tonight too.”

“I’m being serious, now get away. I don’t want you grumbling and looking miserable anyway.”

Jim was thankful. He knew this was Bone’s way of letting him have the evening off, even if he didn’t know what he was worrying about. “Who’s going to stop Scotty from drinking every drop of alcohol within the nearest galaxy?”

“I’m sure Uhura will have a firm hand on him, and no one’s brave enough to deny what she says.”

Jim nodded and handed Bones his glass. “Have a good night, Bones.”

Bones gave him a quick nod, before returning to his grumpy façade and rejoining the party. “Oh, now who in the hell took down that tinsel?!”

Jim instantly allowed his thoughts to swallow him again as he waved to the rest of the crew and stepped through the sliding doors. He noticed Spock follow him. Jim wondered how much of that conversation he’d heard. He didn’t slow down for him to catch up, as he swiftly made his way to his quarters, rubbing his chin nervously.

Or at least, he didn’t slow down, until heard he heard him. 

“Jim?”

He sighed, hung his head, and slowed his pace to a stop simultaneously. Spock, as ever, seemed composed, if not concerned for his captain’s health, his head cocked to the side. Nothing changed.

Jim didn’t turn round to look at him. “Not feeling the festive cheer, Spock?”

Spock didn’t reply to this immediately, as if he were trying to figure out what exactly he meant by ‘feeling the festive cheer’. “Human social gatherings shall always elude me, captain, whatever season it may be.” Jim smiled weakly, closing his eyes. “However, it is unusual for you to leave such an event so early.”

Jim knew what he was insinuating but didn’t want to give any answers. “Just feeling tired, Spock. It’s been a busy few days, and as much as I love Christmas, and my crew, I think an early night might do me some good.”

“You may be able to fool others when you lie, captain, but even as a Vulcan, who cannot lie and so is not practised in the area, I can tell when you are being false.” Jim began to carry on walking, ignoring his comment. Spock followed. They may have their differences, but they were both equally stubborn. “Is this because of our earlier discussion?”

“Do I really need to confirm that for you, Spock?” Spock opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, his brow pinched into a frown. Jim knew he was being awkward and that that he did need to confirm it. Spock needed verbal answers. Verbal proof of everything. 

“Am I to understand that you are angry with me because of an interruption in our conversation which I could not control?”

“Spock- no, no, I’m not-” Jim stormed into his private quarters and Spock followed swiftly. The doors breathed shut behind them. Only now Jim turned to look at Spock. His form was more rigid than usual. Tense. “I’m not angry with you,” he said more calmly. He knew he had to spell it out for him. For himself, even- he didn’t know what was happening. “I’m… frustrated.”

“That much is clear.”

Jim gave an exasperated, sharp exhalation as he paced backwards and forwards, turning away from Spock again. He could feel his heart beat rising. 

“Is your frustration partly directed at Doctor McCoy for his interruption?”

“I suppose so.”

“Hm. The fact that Doctor McCoy remains to be exasperating for his colleagues is unsurprising.”

Jim laughed, beginning to relax despite his nerves. He stopped pacing, and rubbed the back of his neck, which was growing warm. He could feel Spock’s eyes on him.

Spock examined his body language. Rarely had he seen Jim in such a state of nervousness. He felt a similar distress; and he believed it was for the same reason. The matter of their friendship- their relationship- had arisen, only to be suddenly interrupted with no answers, no conclusion, no mutual understanding. He was a Vulcan, for whom sharing feelings with another being was extremely intimate and of great importance, and so, that the conversation had been interrupted made him uncharacteristically anxious. For Jim, it must have been equally distressing, since he had effectively poured his emotions, his feelings for Spock into Spock’s mind. 

Picking the conversation up where it had begun appeared to be more difficult than anticipated.

Jim stood motionless, eyes closed, head hung. Was he trying to regain control over his nerves, an action similar to Vulcan meditation? Or was he ashamed of what he had shown Spock? Did he regret it, even?

Spock didn’t move. He didn’t know how to. He wanted to. He wanted to know what to do, to be able to, to be- to be more human. To be able to let it show. But after so many years of holding the dam up with his bear hands, he was terrified of walking away. He didn’t know how to.

For what felt like the first time in the history of their relationship, Spock made the first move. “Christmas is indeed a holiday well worth of note. I had never anticipated it to be so… enjoyable.”

Jim looked back at him, finally. Only Spock wasn’t expecting the reaction it elicited, as Jim’s blue eyes gazed back him with his characteristic crooked smile. He looked away- although he did not know why- and his shoulders stiffened. 

Jim’s anxious demeanor seemed to change almost entirely; it was clear that he was still uncertain, still nervous, but he also regained the playful confidence which was so familiar to Spock. Uncertain and confident did not correlate; Spock knew this. It was illogical. It was a paradox. Jim was all those things, and he found an irrational sense of enjoyment in aimlessly trying to decipher him.

He stepped towards Spock slowly, hands behind his back, still not looking at him. “Enjoyable, huh?” He teased. “Despite the arguments over tinsel and the drunken mess?”

Spock didn’t reply, because they both knew full well that Spock’s reference to Christmas wasn’t the staff party.

“In that case, I can’t allow the festivities to end there.” Spock frowned, as Jim turned to his radio. He liked the old fashioned radio; it reminded him a lot of his childhood on Earth. He’d fiddled around with it in his youth as a project, so it could pick up wavelengths from distant planets. He turned it on, tuning it through the crackles and murmurs of the different channels, until he found a one that was playing Christmas music. He left it on quietly.

“I am fond of Christmas music, having heard samples of it this evening,” Spock said. He never usually participated in small talk, but in this instance he felt it would loosen the tense atmosphere.

“Ha- that’s because you didn’t hang around long enough to hear some of the crazier songs. But you’re right. The quieter, orchestral stuff is nice.”

Silent Night was playing at the moment. The background music did make the atmosphere more relaxed, somehow. Spock found himself gazing at him, examining every move he made. The faint twitch of a smile as he recognised the song that was playing. The bite of his lip as he controlled some inner debate within him. The bob of his adam’s apple when he swallowed nervously.

Jim looked back. This time Spock didn’t look away. 

His throat felt incredibly dry, all of a sudden, for some reason. The dam was beginning to sprout holes, and Spock was desperately trying to plug them up with his hands. 

He just wished there could be some way to show him that he understood. 

Jim stepped towards him until the gap between them had been shortened. Any closer and the status of their relationship as being ‘just friends’ would be debatable. 

“Something on my face?” 

Spock then realised that he’d been staring this whole time. His jaw tightened. “If you’re inquiring as to whether the reason I am staring is because you have ‘something on your face’ then- no, you do not.”

“Haven’t answered my question though. You said it yourself, I’m ‘inquiring as to whether the reason you are staring’ is because I have something on my face. I don’t. So what’s you’re answer? Find something… fascinating?”

Spock didn’t see any reason why Jim had to be so unclear and why he had to tease so much. Even for a human he was extreme in both these areas. That wasn’t to say that Spock didn’t find some form of pleasure in this frustration and confusion.

“I find that you always provide something fascinating.”

Jim took a step closer. ‘Just friends’ was definitely not a term they could use for their relationship any more. He smirked. “And my face- my face is fascinating too?”

“Your eyes in particular,” Spock replied far more quickly than he’d anticipated. It was as if he’d accidentally spoken some thought which he had no idea was there. The gaps in the dam were popping up left right and centre now. He wasn’t sure he could plug them all up. He swallowed.

Jim looked back at him without hesitation now, eyebrows raised in equal surprise. He was just as uncertain and nervous as Spock was, but when he followed one path he never backed out. Spock knew this about him. Whatever was happening, was going to continue to happen.

Spock felt a warm, nervous sensation in his abdomen- he believed in Earth terms it was called having ‘butterflies’. It was an unsettling image, since he’d rather not have butterflies in his stomach and he didn’t want to ponder on the notion. Especially not now. 

He wanted to show him. He wanted to let him know that he felt the same way, whatever that was. He didn’t understand, and he felt Jim’s confusion too when their mind’s had melded. He wanted to show him so Jim didn’t feel alone, but he didn’t know how. 

He could feel Jim’s presence, his feelings; they were standing so close, they were so in tune that he could catch the edge of his emotions with his telepathy, without touching. It was barely the surface of what Jim was feeling, but it knocked Spock off his metaphorical feet; a large chunk of the dam had fallen away now, and the emotions were pouring through his body without any ability to control it. 

They were so close that Spock could feel Jim’s breath on his chin, as he looked up at him. Spock looked down, not to Jim’s face, but his hand. 

Perhaps…

Spock touched Jim’s knuckles with his index and middle finger. Jim flinched slightly in shock, but did not move away; and in that moment an electric shock of emotions coursed through Spock’s system, his jaw dropping ever so slightly. Jim noticed. He reciprocated, the tips of his fingers lightly brushing the inside of Spock’s wrist, stroking upwards into the palm of his hand. Spock held his breath, as he allowed his feelings to flow through his fingers and into Jim’s hand, so that he might understand...

The song had changed, although Spock hadn’t noticed until Jim, continuing to stroke the palm of his hand, found Spock’s other hand with his other. Spock flinched as he brought it to his waist, and he moved his own hand to Spock’s chest; he then realised, that he was positioning them to dance.

“This is a good song,” Jim said hoarsely, as if he’d just woken up. 

“I do not know it well enough to have an opinion,” Spock replied, his brows pinched in thought as he examined his hand on Jim’s waist and Jim’s hand on his chest. If his heart were located in his chest, Jim would be able to feel his heart beat. It was beating far faster than usual, since Jim was exploring his hand in such an unrestrained fashion that it was inappropriate by Vulcan standards.

But he was not fully Vulcan. So it was only logical to allow this.

He couldn’t help but allow it. The dam had no purpose now, his emotions had free reign and there was nothing he could do to stop them. And, to his surprise, he didn’t want to.

Spock did however feel a twinge of embarrassment and instant regret as he released a sharp, raspy breath, Jim tracing the ridge between his index finger and thumb with his own thumb.

Jim seemed rather smug with this result, for which Spock was not sure if he was resentful or pleased. 

He’d never danced before. It was not logical, and so naturally it was not Vulcan. He was not even sure if he could call this dancing, but he could not deny that there was a pleasant sensation to rhythmically stepping side to side, and being so close to someone you…

His train of thought trailed off, either because he was distracted by Jim’s piercing gaze, his soft hands and his fingers spreading on his chest, or whether it was because he wasn’t sure how to finish his thought. Or, it may have likely been all of the above. His own hand reached round from Jim’s waist to his lower back, pulling them in closer. He didn’t not know why and nor did he question it. He was behaving most uncharacteristically.

And Jim also seemed to think so, because he raised his eyebrows again and cleared his throat nervously. Spock felt his warm breath on the bottom of his neck as he looked down. “You act like you don’t understand human beings, but you seem to know what you’re doing.”

“I can readily attest that this is not true.” He paused. “Not entirely.”

Jim chuckled, now that he was standing closer, Spock could hear the low rumble more clearly in his chest. “Good. I’m not the only one. I have no idea what I’m doing here,” he said. 

Spock assumed he was talking about the Vulcan intimacy which was ensuing between their hands. “Your first statement could be said for-” Spock caught his breath, as Jim once again stroked the ridge between the thumb and index with his thumb. “- your first statement could be said for yourself, but rather in reverse.”

Jim smiled again, however he did not seem smug this time. He seemed peaceful, but nervous. He was so infuriating.

Jim looked at him with those blue eyes from which Spock was currently finding it so hard to look away. “This is so crazy,” he laughed, looking down nervously, and when he looked up again he seemed to have gained a pinkish hue to his cheeks.

Spock was aware that the back of his neck, his cheeks and his ears were probably doing something similar, but rather revealed a shade of green. He swallowed, and returned a small smile. Something he very, very rarely did. “It is indeed… not how I envisioned this evening to turn out. I have no complaint.”

“Neither.”

Jim began to shorten the distance between their faces, until he could feel his breath on his lips. They parted, uncertainly. He was aware of the anxious pinch between his eyebrows, but knew there was nothing to stop it. Jim slid his fingers between Spock's, so that their hands were linked- the combination of everything made him hiccup, catch his breath. Their breathing settled into sync, wavering and deep. 

Spock knew what Jim was about to do. 

“Capt- Jim.”

“Spock,” he whispered.

“I-” he hesitated. “I find myself to be rather nervous.”

“You’re not alone there.”

“I’m not used to feeling so-”

“Nor are most people,” Jim interrupted. He drew back slightly. “I don’t want to make you do anything you feel uncomfortable with, we can stop-”

“That is not my intention,” Spock replied hoarsely. 

The corner of Jim’s mouth twitched with a smile, before he leaned in again, squeezing Spock’s hand for reassurance. Spock exhaled sharply. 

“You’re only half Vulcan, Spock.”

And thus, slowly, hesitantly, the negligible gap was closed. 

Jim lightly brushed Spock’s lower lip with his own before meeting his mouth with a kiss. It was gentle; he knew Spock was uncertain, and in fact, he was too. It took Spock a second to register what was happening, despite the amount of time he’d had to come to terms with it, before he kissed back. 

He wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing- it felt like he was- but he was relying almost entirely on the hope that his human half would lead the way, since his Vulcan half was definitely not prepared to engage in something as alien as human kissing. Fortunately, his human emotions seemed to have free reign at the moment. Unfortunately, he’d still never kissed anyone- the human way, that is- and so he had no experience upon which to hope. 

But from his experience so far, Spock couldn’t deny that it was… not unpleasant.

Jim’s hand slid from his chest up to his neck, spreading round the back of Spock’s ear, and ruffling his hair. Before Spock could think about was happening, register any of it, work out whether he was doing any of it right- Jim began to trace the palm of his hand with his thumb. Only this time, Spock didn’t catch his breathe or freeze; he had no control over his actions, as his tongue slipped into Jim’s mouth.

It was like his Vulcan half and his human half weren’t halves anymore- they were blended together, working together. Against Spock, it seemed to him, as his thoughts became clouded in a way they never had before, and yet he was simultaneously alert and aware of what was going on. 

Jim made a noise which Spock didn’t recognise- a sort of low grumble, he couldn’t tell if it was positive, although he came to the conclusion it was- when he returned the action with his tongue. 

Spock definitely didn’t know if he was doing it right. He didn’t know how Jim felt about this situation. But his doubts were swallowed by his emotions until all he could perceive was Jim’s increasingly fervent kisses, as he bit his lip, his lips, his tongue, his hand ruffling his hair, Spock’s hand descending along the curve of his back, the warmth throughout his whole body, Jim’s nails digging into his knuckles, the occasional shaky breath-

All he did know was that he was enjoying it.

Jim’s hand slipped from Spock’s and rose along his arm; Spock would have deduced that, without the intimacy of holding hands, on his part, the passion of the moment would have lessened. It was logical, considering the Vulcan sensitivity of hand holding; and yet, his cheeks grew warmer and he only pulled Jim in closer, even giving an involuntary sigh, as Jim cupped his face with one hand and traced Spock’s spine with the other. It was illogical. But so much about Jim was illogical, and considering how much time Spock spent with him, it was only natural that this would rub off on him.

It was all happening so quickly. The fact that it was happening at all was still a shock to them both, but it didn’t hold them back. Spock was being carried away with the tide now, his emotions pulling him closer to Jim. 

And, it seemed, towards the bed.

Or perhaps it was also the fact that Jim was pulling him by the waist towards the bed. Most likely a combination of the two. 

Things were moving so quickly but it didn’t feel wrong. There was so much be said, so much time to make up, so much that hadn’t been realised until this moment, and it was all happening at once, overflowing.

Jim’s hands were on Spock’s back, under his shirt as he fell back onto the bed, pulling him down with him; Spock would’ve preferred to have landed a little more gracefully, but considering his alarming lack of mental presence he couldn’t concentrate enough to do so. 

Lack of mental presence; perhaps that wasn’t the right phrase. He was overwhelmingly mentally aware, but only of one thing- Jim. Or, rather, himself and Jim. They were on single item, in this moment. They were one, in every way- in ways far stronger than any Vulcan mind meld.

There wasn’t a single thought in his head and yet there were a million. All he could fathom were emotions, and it was unsettling, and wonderful. The fact that he was also feeling Jim’s emotions made it all the more confusing- he could no longer work out who’s were who’s. 

Jim’s hand had reached under his shirt and it was climbing up his back, pressing him closer. Spock responded by stretching out his hand and linking it with Jim’s. He could feel his smile on his lips; this was a good reaction. He wanted Jim to know, by showing him a human sentimentality as hand holding (though it meant much more for Vulcans) that he cared for him so much more than he could show. That their relationship meant more to him than what was happening in this one moment.

Which was why he felt he needed to speak. He could feel it all overflowing at an alarming pace. His emotions were tumbling out of his control.

Jim’s hand slid down his back slowly. It wasn’t unenjoyable, but-

“Captain-”

Jim grumbled as he began to kiss along his jawline. “Spock, don't call me captain- not now-”

His hand began to reach lower. He wanted to, God knows he wished he could but he couldn’t, he wasn’t-

“Jim-”

“That’s more like it,” he mumbled, making his way back to his lips. 

His hand slid lower, now to the small of his back. He wasn’t ready. He couldn’t-

Spock pulled away, taking in a gasping breath like he’d just emerged from water. He unlinked his hand, and rolled away from Jim, taking deep, measured breaths. He sat on the edge of the bed, gripping his knees, breathing shakily through his nose. His hands were quivering. 

He couldn’t see Jim. He was lying behind him, where he’d suddenly left him. But now, as he closed his eyes to gather himself, he imagined him looking betrayed. And he couldn’t bear it. 

No one said anything for a few moments.

“I’m sorry.”

Spock frowned. He had nothing to be sorry for, why was he sorry? Neither person had anything to be sorry for… and yet Spock couldn’t stop imagining Jim’s betrayed expression. Because he knew his Vulcan upbringing was going to make things difficult, when sometimes he really wished it wouldn’t.

“For…what reason are you apologising?”

Spock heard Jim sigh in frustration, at a lack of words. “For… going a bit crazy on you there. I mean even by human standards that was going pretty fast. I mean that escalated really quickly.”

Spock focused his gaze on his hands, tried to stop them from shaking. His posture was straight, orderly- so unlike how he’d been only a few moments ago. He wanted to reply, but he didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t help but feel a crushing sense of disappointment settle on him, instead. He opened his mouth to speak, but then found, again, that he didn’t know what to say.

Jim had always been perceptive of Spock’s feelings, but especially now. He climbed to the edge of the bed and sat beside him, his hands linked together and his elbows resting on his knees. He knew that Spock wanted to explain, and, Spock assumed, that he would want some answers for himself. 

Jim glanced over to Spock’s shaking hands. He’d noticed them do that only once; when he’d become so furious during a mission that he’d had to isolate himself to meditate, after a few members of a small planet had completely humiliated them. This wasn’t the same. 

Jim tried not to look at him. He wanted to. He could look at him all day, but he didn’t want to put Spock under pressure. Not like he just had. He winced. He couldn’t believe he’d put Spock in that position, when he knew just how reserved he was. 

It was involuntary; he’d meant it to be in his head. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing for which to apologise.”

“Yes, I do. I shouldn’t’ve… I shouldn’t have put you in a situation where you felt overwhelmed.”

Spock tilted his head back slightly, as if it helped him think. He swallowed, cleared his throat. “I- You do not need to apologise. It is true that I was… unprepared for the situation…” Jim snorted, as if to agree that he had been too. “… but… Jim- you must understand. I react with restraint and reservation not because I am unhappy with the situation- but- because I cannot physically, or emotionally cope. I do not know how. How to… let my emotions be free. Free, without… overwhelming me.”

Jim looked at him now. Spock didn’t look back, but his hands had stopped shaking now. 

“Just now- I let my feelings take reign in a way I never knew I could,” he continued, still looking up slightly. “But… so much emotion had come to light in such a small space of time, that… it was too much.”

Jim smiled slightly, looking at Spock’s tilted head, his jaw line moving as he spoke. He felt he empathised a little with what Spock was talking about. About incapacitating emotion. 

“I… I feel that I must apologise.”

Jim frowned and instinctively reached for his hand, but knew that wasn’t the best idea right now. “What? Why?”

Spock swallowed, looking down now. “I… I understand that the Vulcan part of me makes this difficult and-”

“Now, stop right there,” Jim twisted round, desperately trying not to touch Spock. Spock frowned at him, surprised by his outburst. “You- you have nothing to apologise for, nothing. I love you just the way you are, including the Vulcan bits- particularly the Vulcan bits.” Jim swallowed hesitantly, realising what he’d just said. 

But Spock didn’t seem too fazed. Or freaked out. In fact, he seemed a lot calmer. He was looking directly into his eyes now. Jim smiled. 

“I’m not even remotely upset by what just happened. Spock, I was feeling like things were moving too quickly, just then. And this is me.”

“You are characteristically impulsive.”

Jim laughed. He was so happy he hadn’t scared him by saying he loved him, because the truth was, and he was only realising this now, that he loved him completely. He was dedicated. 

“So, basically, all we need to do is take things slow. We don’t _need_ to do anything.”

The crease between Spock’s brow reappeared in response. Jim couldn’t help but chuckle. “You are aware, then, that… this would not be a normal relationship.”

Jim snorted. “Since when was anything concerning us normal.” He added his trademark, flirtatious smile. “So that’s what this is now, then, huh? A relationship?”

Spock’s eyebrow twitched. “If you would agree…”

“I do, I’m sorry. I’m just teasing you.”

Spock returned a restrained, exasperated look. He was used to Jim’s facetious nature, but it never ceased to frustrate him. The exasperation melted. 

“I am afraid that I am not strong enough.”  
Jim had rarely ever heard him say something so vulnerable. He couldn’t help brushing his shoulder with his in response. Whatever happened, wherever they were, on the bridge or alone together, they would always be by each other’s side. They would always be. Jim closed his eyes. 

“We all are.”


End file.
